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by dew_drops



Category: VIXX
Genre: Crushes, Developing Relationship, Fake Dating, Frenzied Kisses, M/M, Sappiness, Sex, Sweet Kisses, Vignettes, secret agents, tasteful sex I would say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dew_drops/pseuds/dew_drops
Summary: He didn’t know how it happened, because it wasn’t a stumping realization, no apple smacking his head, just one day – he woke up, and decided he definitely liked Wonshik.





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**Author's Note:**

> There's no real plot. There are vignettes, sort of. I haven't written properly in over a year, and whoever requested this deserves better, but, hey, I tried c: I deviated from the prompt somewhat, but I hope you'll still enjoy it.

The first time he met Wonshik he was wearing a sleek suit, his expression uncannily jovial, at odds with the level of seriousness they had to upkeep in this circle. To be fair, they did make fun of each other and made stupid jokes once in a while, but Wonshik, while he had a pristine work ethic, was also rather loose with the rulebook. Hakyeon liked him. He didn’t know how it happened, because it wasn’t a stumping realization, no apple smacking his head, just one day – he woke up, and decided he definitely liked Wonshik.

They could go without a mission for months. It was a good time to de-stress and decompress, and Hakyeon was planning on exactly just that, already daydreaming of fruity cocktails and warm sand, of foamy waves crashing into the shore. There’s one more pair of sandals he has to pack, and that hand lotion he had bought a couple days ago, a watermelon flavored lip balm. He has to notify about his upcoming absence, because there have been grumbles about a water leak to the basement coming from his place, and now the administrator fancied coming over every other day to probe; headache blooms when he thinks about it, because personally he doesn’t believe one bit that the source of the problem lies within his apartment. He smooths a hand down his fringe, puts on his sunglasses, and goes.

The flight leaves at 11:45 and he’s boarding. It seems plain, sometimes, day to day life, when the more mysterious and intricate sides of it have to stay hidden, the excitement cramped, bound within him when he feels the adrenaline fill his blood. People move along to take their seats and Hakyeon languishes, hand discreetly lifted to his mouth to cover up a sleepy yawn. It’s when he arrives to his seat that he notices, two rows behind, on the other side, in the aisle seat, none other than unmistakably Wonshik. Hakyeon sits down, and wonders. He can’t just go up to strike a conversation, they aren’t allowed, but it doesn’t stop him from being fretful, and dare he say, giddy. It’s another recognition of his foolish feelings, a reinforcement – a silly crush, and he relishes every second when he lets himself be aware of it. He muses for a second that one would possibly classify his behaviors as inappropriate or unwelcome, creepy in simpler terms, when his attention lingers on Wonshik, but that thought doesn’t stay with him for long. Wonshik is without a doubt cute – _cute_ , an odd descriptor it feels, especially as he has seen some of his dangerous side, but it fits like a glove. Very endearingly laughing at presumably something absolutely hilarious on his phone, and then adorably taking a nap with his lips slightly parted. His laughter is deep and raucous, Hakyeon had still heard it far too little to be used to it, but he wants to become used to it.

A tiny smile sneaks on his lips when Wonshik startles himself awake, and at this point he decides to delve into the book he’s brought along for the flight, _Le Voyageur imprudent_ , digs into his back pack and loses himself in fantastic worlds. When he looks up from his book again they’re almost landing. He blinks away the tiredness from his eyes and his gaze wanders, first to the ceiling and then he takes a glance behind. Wonshik’s eyes fall on him, and Hakyeon squirms back in his seat, vaguely embarrassed. He wonders if Wonshik remembers him – they had been introduced, but had worked in a larger team at the time – and feels regretful that he hadn’t been more ostentatious at the time.

 

 

The message reads that Kim Wonshik is his assigned partner, and to call himself baffled would be a devastating understatement. There is more to it, a little note attached that says _civilian life must be altered to maximise safety and secrecy_. Hakyeon has questions. Tons of questions. He hopes he will find and answer to them all at the appointed meeting at six pm sharp.

Wonshik skips the meeting. Hakyeon is bristling, the nerve, to not appear at what might be the most important meeting of all.

“Wonshik has studied the case carefully, and he’s familiar with the details. We arranged this more for you,” he’d been informed, somewhat mechanical, clinical. He didn’t expect warmth; surely, they could loosen up every once in a while, but to anticipate a cozier atmosphere would be a ridiculous expectation.

“I understand,” there was no need to protest, or denigrate Wonshik in any way. After the bout of frustration he’s now calm, and in no mood to vilify the other man. It would just be a waste of time.

What leaves him flabbergasted after the meeting is over is the main news, and it is crucial to go with Wonshik over every fine detail, he realizes. He wants to say that this doesn’t feel like he might take a stab at schmoozing with Wonshik, or that he will be one hundred percent concentrated on his work and nothing else, but he will be lying.

 

 

Hakyeon finds out that Wonshik is terribly messy. Not dirty per se, but more sloppy, with his sweat stained shirts strewn about the room, papers asunder on the work desk, the trash bin close to brimming. He doesn’t hesitate to express his displeasure, nose wrinkled in distaste before he speaks.

“It’s laundry day,” he informs, his voice flat.

Wonshik _flies_ on the wood flooring, his shirt slapdash, a sandwich half shoved into his mouth.

“I know, but I can’t – do it now, and,” his fringe looks messy, but while Hakyeon is a weak creature he doesn’t relent, no matter how cute Wonshik looks with his tousled hair.

“Wonshik,” there’s tinge of warning, and Wonshik surrenders, shoulders slumped. He doesn’t want to abide by Hakyeon’s frankly ridiculous standards of cleanliness, but he also doesn’t want an earful. He feels like he’s back to living with his parents, nagged about this and that.

Hakyeon is stubborn.

The first two or three times there are dishes left in the sink by Hakyeon he doesn't wash them, too used to only taking care of his own business, but then he notices his shirts wrinkle free in the morning, ironed properly and hung, and the fact that Hakyeon doesn't even demand a _thank you._ There's a bruise to his pride, and a stab of shame, and he figures he had been a little selfish.

 

 

Wonshik has a dog. While he had been excited to find out more about Wonshik, details like what kind of aftershave he uses, or that he snores so horrifically loud he hears it from the bedroom sometimes, he doesn't think this looks auspicious. It's a rambunctious, twenty five pound dog that Hakyeon might or might not be wary of. He tries to approach with gentleness, but all he gets in return are little teeth bared menacingly and Hakyeon retreats shamefully. He’s sticky to Wonshik, so affectionate and eager for cuddles and kisses, but Hakyeon doesn’t get any of that, not even crumbs.

“Does he bite?” he asks Wonshik, cautious.

“Only if he doesn’t like you,” Wonshik rubs salt into the wound, smiling that stupidly charming grin of his, but this time instead of making Hakyeon feel fluttery it has him deflated.

There are attempts. Met with hissing, barking, and general neglect, a sort of contemptuous avoidance that has Hakyeon in awe.

It might be the hundredth time he tries to feed him, and Hakyeon as always pleads to not end up without his hand. He almost recoils, but the dog snags the piece of boiled chicken and munches on it quietly – Hakyeon is cooing before he can catch himself, a little emotional with the unexpected warmth. Or at least, indifference, but either way he figures it’s a step in the right direction. He traces a finger down his fluffy ears with hesitance, but then the dog butts his smooth head into his hand. There’s a soft lick on his palm, and Hakyeon falls in love, just as he did when Wonshik first showed him that cute shy smile.

Wonshik is nothing but amused and surprised when he finds them both sleeping one day, his dog plopped on Hakyeon’s belly, Hakyeon’s hand limp on the furry back, and he draws a blanket over them both, unable to suppress the smile that has snuck onto his lip. Giddy, the display makes his heart warm and even as he goes on about his chores he can’t stop it. Whenever he sneaks a glance back he’s filled with an emotion that he can’t place.

It feels homely. Steady. Lovely.

 

 

Hakyeon looks exhausted when he flops on the bed beside him for their usual chit chat. He isn't particularly talkative, Wonshik notices, the slope to his mouth tilted downwards, his body seemingly stiff.

"Thanks for doing the dishes," Hakyeon says, stretching with a small sigh, "I didn't have time this morning – “ Wonshik shushes him gently, shrugs as if to say it was no problem.

"You're tired," blunt, and gentle.

"I am tired," Hakyeon doesn't bother to hide, and there's a grimace of weariness.

Hakyeon is startled when he feels Wonshik's hands on his shoulders, big and gentle much like Wonshik himself, soothing on the tenderness in his muscles. He turns to goo in a minute under the magic of Wonshik's hands, strong and pressing into aching spots so wonderfully he can’t hold back a sigh.

“Good?” Wonshik prods, his voice smooth and lovely to Hakyeon’s ears.

“So good. Please, don’t stop.”

Wonshik doesn't stop. He runs his hands down Hakyeon's back, roves them over his aching waist, a tight grip that has Hakyeon exhale a sigh of relief. It feels good, insanely good, and he leans against Wonshik without thinking.

"You are really tense," Wonshik points out, and Hakyeon only hums. He knows one way or two to drain of that tension. His cheeks might have also gone very rosy.

"Can you do my neck, please?" Wonshik obliges. Hakyeon feels like he's in heaven, his legs turning to water.

He becomes so languid, pressing back against Wonshik until his back comes flush to his firm chest. Wonshik indulges him, his chin snuggling over his shoulder, his hands still so soft and strong on his waist, and they stay like that for a few moments. Wonshik is so warm, and Hakyeon is loose, burrowing further in his embrace, seeking for comfort, for tenderness. In the daze of sleepiness he feels Wonshik help him down on the mattress, and instead of letting him go, Hakyeon latches onto his arm with a whine.

Wonshik stays. Hakyeon will have enough time to be embarrassed tomorrow.

 

 

Wonshik had learnt that Hakyeon is a creature of habit. Every time he's home at night there's dinner and a long bath, and his extensive skin care routine that Wonshik pokes fun at once in a while. He's not surprised when he slides inside and there's a waft of perfume, sweet, luxurious, and as he makes for the bedroom he walks by the bathroom, and the door is ajar. Shamefully, he does peek. There's a burning, pressing itch, but he knows it's not exactly advisable to act upon it. He only sees Hakyeon soaked under rich bubbles, his hair slick and his head tipped back, eyes closed. It all smells so flowery and strong that for a moment he wonders how Hakyeon doesn't have a headache.

He looks beautiful, relaxed, and Wonshik wants to join him.

He breathes in deep, and leaves.

Hakyeon sits with him for his dinner, his hair wet still and he's smelling of vanilla, sweet. Wonshik catches the way a drop of water slinks down his neck, trails over his collarbone.

Hakyeon fools around under the table, foot nudging Wonshik's, playful.

There's the ring of a message, and Wonshik's face falls.

"Jiwan again?" Hakyeon feels that twinge of jealousy, of possessiveness.

"Mm," Wonshik doesn't hide his displeasure, but Hakyeon thinks he sees conflict on his face, too, "he's pushy."

"Do you wanna meet him?"

Wonshik shrugs.

"It wasn't a pretty breakup," Hakyeon doesn't want to pry, but he's plagued by curiosity.

"Do you still love him?"

"No," there is no breath of hesitation, no lapse of time to contemplate.

Hakyeon stops himself before he shows any sign of helpless relief.

He goes for it, his fingers fitting into the spaces between Wonshik's, lovely, and there's a comforting squeeze. The corners of Wonshik's lips quirk up, timid but there, and he casts Hakyeon a look.

Playful. Hakyeon feels Wonshik's foot nudge his under the table.

 

 

"How did it happen?"

"There were more of them, and I thought I could outrun them, but one had a knife – " Hakyeon eyes the bloodied cloth worriedly. The blood isn't spurting, just trickling, and Hakyeon's hands become a little less tense. Still, the flimsy gauze is soaked and sticky, and Hakyeon removes it carefully, voice tinged with concern.

"Why did you do that?" he tries to not sound upset. He isn't entitled to be upset, not for this, not for Wonshik risking his life. He can't be selfish.

"I got bold," Wonshik chuckles, but it's weary and subdued. He sounds exhausted. Hakyeon bites his tongue, his deft fingers working softly over Wonshik's wound. He applies some antibiotic cream, covers the new gauze with bandage, his eyebrows lifting in worry when Wonshik moans in pain.

"Don't get bold next time," Hakyeon fails at holding himself back, and his words rush out, "I don't want to lose you," there's a falter in his breath, and his heart might have gone a little haywire. He doesn't regret that he said it.

Wonshik doesn’t respond. Guilt rises up in his throat, and he feels pensive.

Hakyeon helps him put on his shirt, and Wonshik turns to face him.

"Thank you," small, sheepish, "I'm sorry," Hakyeon doesn't feel like he has any right to apologies, but secretly he feels grateful, touched. Wonshik's fingers trace up his cheek, and Hakyeon is crying. He feels silly for crying, Wonshik looks like a kicked puppy, and Hakyeon's hand cups over his, steady. There's a soft nod, Hakyeon's eyes still shimmery. Wonshik inches forward, and their lips meet in something soft and insistent. Passion leaks over and their lips meld, hesitation bleeding into firmness, Wonshik's hands roving down to hold at Hakyeon's waist.

Hakyeon cups Wonshik's face, fingers trailing down adoringly to his jaw, over the curve, and then they trace up to the apples of his cheeks, lips pressed together tenderly.

Wonshik climbs into his lap and it's too much, _it's too much,_ and Hakyeon wants all of it, welcoming him in with a soft bite to his lip. Wonshik's lips suck at his tongue, shy and tentative, and Hakyeon's hands travel down to his waist, to his curved hip, goad him on.

He flinches back when Wonshik moans, of pain.

"Your shoulder," Wonshik looks flushed, and Hakyeon feels so foolishly fond, but it doesn't take away from his concern.

Wonshik's arm curls over Hakyeon's shoulder, and he smiles, bashful.

"I'm fine," Hakyeon looks like he wants to say more, but doesn't, chooses to trust him. Wonshik presses close again, and basks in all of his loveliness, in soft lips and vanilla soap.

 

 

Wonshik snags him by his waist when he gets in, and Hakyeon laughs, lets go of a high pitched yelp when Wonshik blows raspberry kisses into his neck. It's a common occurrence by now, and yet Hakyeon's heart always swells foolishly. To come back to warmth and pleasure and joy, to come back _home_ still feels foreign, like it's ready to be snagged from the tips of his fingers, but Hakyeon doesn't mull too much over it.

They're stuck at home a lot at this time, prompted for more investigative work. Hakyeon figures investigating Wonshik's body is not what they meant, but the other man is so devastatingly pretty he can’t keep his hands off him for a minute, driven by a fiery cocktail of hormones and that energy born from novelty. He wants to know everything, every ridge and curve, every scratch and mark on Wonshik’s body.

Wonshik is so willing.

So sweet and willing, hands eager and hungry, trailing roughly down Hakyeon's back when Hakyeon nudges his thighs apart and presses into slicked warmth. It feels good, so good when Hakyeon hikes his leg up to his waist, but then he goes slow, so slow and lazy Wonshik rides that intoxicating line between absolute pleasure and the pain of not getting off.

"So cruel," he teases, panting.

Hakyeon's fingers are warm on the underside of his cock. Wonshik cants his hips up, presses back with a moan, and Hakyeon's fingers dribble up to the slickness pearled at the head of his cock.

"Feels so good," Hakyeon grins down, so charmingly, and Wonshik slaps at his glistening chest before he tugs him in, holds onto his shoulder.

Wonshik loses coherence after that, mesmerized by tender kisses and skilled hips.

 

 

They settle into a routine, interrupted by days long overseas trips sparingly, but it's mostly quiet. Six months overdue with their agreement, but they keep it under wraps, and their superiors care far less than they thought they would.

Hakyeon wears Wonshik's shirt. Wonshik likes to make him squirm like this, drape his palm over the top of his thigh, glazing over that soft skin, ticklish underneath the shirt. Hakyeon is curled up to him, whimpers to his lips faintly when his slicked fingers slip in. He kisses his lips, his jaw, soft and delicate and loving, nonchalant to Hakyeon's moans. He's hard against Hakyeon's thigh, and Hakyeon's hips rut forward, more to Wonshik's groin than anything else, bursts of pleasure making him quiver in his arms.

"Babe," Wonshik's voice is gentle; he's so smitten, gaze roaming over Hakyeon's pleasure struck face.

Hakyeon groans brokenly, and his face buries in Wonshik's neck.

Wonshik's fingers touch deeper, make Hakyeon writhe. He kisses and licks at the girth of his neck, gasping, his hair spilling on the pillow when his head tips back, his thighs tensing.

"You liked that," Wonshik taunts, and Hakyeon has enough coherence to grin, a pert smile that takes Wonshik's breath away, and he leans in to kiss his lower lip.

"Please, _yes_ ," he's leaning into it, his stomach twisting warmly, and his fingers tug at his shirt, sneak down his cock, " _yesyesyes_ ," he breathes roughly.

Wonshik lets him touch himself with that endearing tinge of clumsiness, gaze slinking over the shimmer to Hakyeon's forehead and to his lovely eyes, to his flushed mouth.

Hakyeon comes, gasping to his lips, beautiful, wrecked by pleasure.

He pats at his face later in the bathroom mirror, smiles coyly when Wonshik comes up behind him, arms around his waist and his face burrowed to his neck.

Wonshik jerks his shirt up to his hip, palm tracing up Hakyeon's ass, firm.

"Wonshikkie," elated, wanting.

"Don't wanna interrupt you," Hakyeon rolls his eyes fondly, because yes, he _does_. Hakyeon spills some toner on his cotton pad, and taps it gently onto his face. Some trickles on his fingers but he ignores it.

"Keep going," Wonshik encourages, and Hakyeon _tries_.

He bites down onto his finger when Wonshik pushes in, filling him, and he quivers, his thighs trembling.

"Ah," he had tasted the toner unintentionally, "not so good on my tongue."

He watches Wonshik in the mirror, and his neck is flushed - he looks gorgeous, his hips languidly pressing forward, hip bones sharp to Hakyeon's ass. He loves that smidge of pain, intoxicated.

Hakyeon contemplates using eye cream for a second and decides against that. Wonshik tugs his shirt up his waist, rubs a hand into the groove to Hakyeon's back before his arm curls around his waist.

Hakyeon grips onto the edge of the sink, and moans helplessly, fire surging through his veins.

He struggles to keep his eyes open just to watch Wonshik - Wonshik peppers kisses down his shoulder and holds him close, his hands sticking to his hips when his thrusts grow erratic. He looks stunningly beautiful, and he's warm and big and enfolds Hakyeon ardently.

Skincare routine be damned, Hakyeon figures.

 

 

Hakyeon hasn't been on a date in years. There hasn't been anyone to catch his eye, not until now. And while he cherishes the times they're making out fervently while he's propped on the kitchen counter with Wonshik tugged between his legs, and the times Wonshik joins him for a gentle soak, and the times they sip on strong coffee in the morning together while Wonshik sits daintily in his lap, none of them have been a real, authentic date.

It's been a year. They've been busy.

But they are here now, and Wonshik is donning a tasteful suit, his hair slicked. He looks so handsome Hakyeon can't stop fussing over him, holding his hand, kissing his cheek, food cold and forgotten.

Wonshik slides an arm over his waist, peers at the cute curls in Hakyeon's fringe.

"I love you," he says, easy.

Their booth is intimate, lighting subdued, but Wonshik can still very clearly see the corners of Hakyeon's lips curve up, an innocent, giddy curl that makes his heart twinge.

"I love you," There are many things that can change in a year, but Hakyeon had not seen this coming. The words curl off his tongue assuredly, sweet, and it's maybe the millionth time he's saying it.

"Let's go, we have a plane to catch in the morning," Wonshik doesn't miss the chance to grope at Hakyeon's rear when they slide out, to smack it for good measure.

Hakyeon shoots him a flirty look, lecherous in an endearing way. Wonshik's knees go weak.

 

 

Hakyeon plays with Wonshik's fingers, draws his fingertips over his knuckles, Wonshik's hand limp. He's snoring softly on the bend of Hakyeon's shoulder, and Hakyeon doesn't feel guilty at all that they had been up most of the night. He closes his eyes, just to relax, leans his head against Wonshik's.

He's already daydreaming of fruity cocktails and warm sand, of foamy waves crashing into the shore.

Add making love into the mix, too.

He can't wait.


End file.
